


Closing

by tastewithouttalent



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Blow Jobs, Established Relationship, Exhibitionism, M/M, No Plot/Plotless, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Semi-Public Sex, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-10
Updated: 2015-04-10
Packaged: 2018-03-18 15:28:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3574619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tastewithouttalent/pseuds/tastewithouttalent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"It’s a bit ironic that Takeda should be such a bad influence." Takeda is a much worse influence on Ukai than anyone who sees them would think.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Closing

Ukai’s never been much for risky behavior. It’s true he has a streak of something that could be considered recklessness, maybe, a tendency to make a quick decision and act before he’s entirely contemplated all the ramifications of a choice, but even then his intuition has done a decent job of keeping him out of trouble, even if his reasoning for his decision was hasty.

It’s a bit ironic that Takeda should be such a bad influence.

“You sure don’t  _look_  like you’d be an exhibitionist,” Ukai says against the other’s mouth, doing his best to kiss the man currently on his lap and keep an eye on the store door at the same time. “Can’t you wait ten minutes till I get the shop closed up?”

“I’ve been thinking about you all day,” Takeda says like it’s an answer, ducking his head to press his mouth to Ukai’s shoulder, just over the strap of his apron. The frames of his glasses bump against the blond’s jawline, the friction of his fingers slides up into Ukai’s hair. If Ukai turns his head his mouth will catch soft hair, maybe drag against pale skin, and then his attention really will be gone and this whole situation will be left in Takeda’s hands. That’s not the best decision, in the long run, so he keeps watching the door, though his hands stay at Takeda’s hips to keep him balanced and hold him more or less where he already is.

This works, up until Takeda starts to move. First he’s pulling away, rocking back so he can run a hand through his hair, can adjust his glasses back into line. Ukai risks a glance at him, then, considers that to an outside observer this probably looks a lot like  _he’s_  the seducer in the situation. The thought is faintly amusing and faintly alarming, draws his forehead into creased contemplation, and Takeda takes advantage of his distraction to shift his weight sideways and off Ukai’s lap, dropping to his knees on the floor instead of standing as the blond half-expected him to.

“Woah,” Ukai blurts, then, because he knows this trick, this isn’t the first time Takeda’s pulled this on him. He slides back in his chair, gets as upright as he can, the extra inch of distance poor defense when he’s not even sure he wants to resist but the best he can manage. “Hey, just give it --” He pauses, glances at the clock. “Seven minutes, that’s it.”

Takeda’s expression is wide-eyed, his hair ruffled out of all order, his lips parted on the damp heat of his breathing. He doesn’t  _look_ dangerously persuasive, but Ukai’s collected enough experience to know that facing down that expression rarely goes his way.

“I’ll be fast,” Takeda says, quick and rushed like the quicker he talks the more likely Ukai is to give in. His hand comes out to land on Ukai’s knee, slides up before Ukai can even decide whether he’s relieved or disappointed that it’s in a relatively tame location. His eyes are wide, soft and innocent like he’s begging while his hand slides higher, well past the point of innocence and straight over into teasing.

Ukai can’t help the way his knee tips wider at the friction of Takeda’s fingers sliding over his jeans. His apron is slipping sideways, too, giving way as easily as Ukai does to the motion of the other’s wrist, and when Ukai reaches out his hand lands at Takeda’s hair instead of pushing at the other’s shoulder as he really ought to.

“Someone might still swing by for last-minute shopping,” he points out, the comment turning into implied permission as it falls over his tongue.

Takeda hears it too, offers a grin and a duck of his chin like he’s agreeing, or grateful, or just trying to half-cover the delight of victory that bursts over his face. “Tell me if someone’s coming,” he says, and then he’s looking down entirely and Ukai is looking up, fixing his gaze on the front door so he can notice any possible customers with the greatest amount of warning.

Takeda wasn’t kidding about being fast. He reaches around to tug the tie of Ukai’s apron loose with one hand, tugs open the button of the other’s jeans with the other, and by the time Ukai is starting to take a breath of expectation Takeda’s fingers are working his jeans open entirely, tugging the cloth down enough that he can slide the blond’s half-hard cock free of the fabric.

“Jesus,” Ukai says without looking down, the word cracking into a sharp laugh as he settles his hand into a better hold on Takeda’s hair. “You’re demanding.”

“Insatiable,” Takeda corrects, his voice dropping into the low register Ukai never hears outside of situations like these. It drags the blond’s gaze down to him, shattering apart his intention to maintain his vigil over this particular interlude, and Takeda gives him a smile bright enough to wash away all Ukai’s compunctions into heat before he ducks down to take the other into his mouth.

The rush of heat in response to the friction is almost painful in intensity. Ukai flinches from the sensation, drags his attention back up to the door with sheer force of will, but just looking away isn’t enough to stop him flushing into hard resistance against Takeda’s lips. There’s a purr, maybe-a-laugh stopped short by their position, and then Takeda starts to move, sliding in farther before drawing back, setting a pace fast enough to urge the heat in Ukai’s blood surging through his veins before he’s quite ready to be so desperate.

“Fuck,” he offers aloud, feeling sensation surge up his spine as Takeda finds his balance, slicks his tongue up against the other’s length in time with the movement of his head. “You are a whole lot kinkier than anyone gives you credit for, sensei.”

There’s the sound of a muffled laugh, vibration purring over Takeda’s lips and catching at Ukai’s skin, and the blond risks a glance away from the door so he can look down instead. Takeda is looking up at him, his gaze sharp and bright over the top edge of his glasses, his lips so damp and flushed they’d be obscene all on their own. Between Ukai’s legs it’s pornographic, the visual sending such a rush of heat into the blond’s skin that he groans before he has thought about it.

“I wonder if anyone at school has any idea?” he asks, mostly rhetorically, mostly for the way Takeda’s eyelashes flutter like they’re sharing a secret. “Do they just think you’re the innocent sensei you seem?”

“Mm,” Takeda hums, agreement or laughter or argument Ukai doesn’t know. Ukai consciously relaxes his hold at the other’s hair, takes a deep breath as his vision starts to go a little hazy, his sense of danger receding under the promise of satisfaction.

“Everyone would be shocked to see you like this,” he says, tilting his legs a little wider so Takeda can lean in closer. Takeda’s sucking, now, drawing friction in his wake with every motion of his head, and Ukai’s not really watching for anything anymore as much as gazing vaguely out the glass-fronted windows at the front of the shop. “ _Sensei_.” That gets him another sound, a whining moan far back in Takeda’s throat, and Ukai gives up his consideration on the door as safe enough for the moment. His head goes back instead, his eyes shutting against the heat rising under his skin, and when Takeda sighs something unintelligible against him he jerks and sighs and comes, easy waves of pleasure rippling out into him as his hand slides gentle across Takeda’s dark hair.

Ukai takes a moment to collect himself, while Takeda is pulling back and rocking up on his knees to look out over the counter at the disregarded front door. Ukai’s just looking back down, feeling hazy and languid-warm, when Takeda lets out a sigh of relief and leans back over his heels, smiling up at the blond with an expression far more innocent than his recent actions should allow for.

“Dork,” Ukai declares, leaning in to kiss the damp heat of Takeda’s mouth for another lingering moment of impulsiveness. “Go lock the front door and turn the sign around.”

He doesn’t have to specify beyond that. Takeda smiles like sunshine, bounds to his feet and makes for the front so fast he nearly clips the edge of the counter on his way, only sparing himself from impact by stumbling sideways and almost falling in the other direction. It makes Ukai laugh, sharp and startled, and he’s still grinning as he pulls his jeans back into place and refastens the zipper and button. The apron he sheds entirely, draping it over the back of the chair, and then Takeda is coming back just in time for Ukai to flick the inside lights off and leave them in the dim glow of the streetlights outside.

“C’mon,” Ukai says, reaching out for Takeda’s fingers so he can lead him into the back of the shop, navigate him safely through the dark main space and past the entrance to the storeroom. It’s brighter back here, the lights still on, and the claustrophobia of the space is more than worth it for the way the light lets Ukai watch Takeda’s smile go wider as he squints into the glare.

“Do you want to go home?” Takeda asks, tightening his fingers on Ukai’s in a motion that is probably unconscious. From all Ukai can tell, the question is sincere, patience Takeda never shows for Ukai appearing only when it comes to himself.

Luckily for Takeda, Ukai has more than enough impatience for the both of them, right now.

“Not yet,” he says, stepping in closer so Takeda stumbles backwards, moving until his shoulders hit a stack of boxes sturdy enough to support his weight. He’s grinning now, true delight spreading over his face like it’s sunrise and not well into the night, the expression so contagious Ukai is smirking himself before he lowers his weight to kneel in front of the other man.

“Unless you  _want_  to wait for your turn,” he says. It’s mostly intended to be teasing, the more so when he gets Takeda’s overlarge sweater pushed up so he can reach out and feel the heat radiating out from the cover of the other’s pants. The way Takeda arches into the contact is answer in itself, well before the other can form words around the half-stuttered, “N-no,” in his throat.

“That’s what I thought,” Ukai says. Takeda’s jeans come open under his fingers, the tension in the denim giving way as the fastenings go loose. Ukai ducks in against the bottom edge of the sweater, presses his mouth against Takeda’s stomach, and he can hear the other squeak a startled laugh over him as he tugs the cover of boxers and jeans aside at once.

Takeda’s hard before Ukai gets his clothes open, flushed red and with the head of his cock slick with anticipation before the blond has touched him. Ukai licks against him, trailing his tongue up over the radiant skin, and Takeda is just starting to groan and curl in over him when Ukai opens his mouth wider to take the other in past his lips. Takeda tastes like salt, a bitter so familiar it’s nearly pleasant on Ukai’s tongue and a satisfying heat, proof of his interest clear without even the sound of desperation in his breathing or the fingers winding into Ukai’s hair like handholds. Ukai has to hold him back, brace Takeda against the boxes, and even then the other is in some danger of falling, Takeda’s iffy sense of balance flickering out completely as his fingers curl and his back arches in pleasure.

It’s a good thing they’re in the back room. Takeda isn’t subtle in his reactions, the tremble of his shoulders and part of his lips as telltale for what they’re doing as the broken gasps he is taking in place of more steady inhales. But the shop is closed, and no one can see him but Ukai, here, and really this is just another one of the things Ukai loves, having Takeda half-falling and incoherent with superheated pleasure over him.

It only takes a few minutes. Ukai’s barely settling into a rhythm, is barely starting to feel the pressure of this position at the back of his jaw, when Takeda’s hands jerk at his hair, Takeda whimpers a noise that might be intended as Ukai’s name but just comes out as heat. Ukai can recognize this, knows to duck in as close as he can get and slick his tongue hard against the other, and Takeda shivers and comes into his mouth without any further persuasion.

Ukai keeps his hold on Takeda’s hips as he pulls away, eases the other to collapse at the floor rather than making the mistake of trusting him to stand alone. Takeda offers him a dreamy smile in return, reaches out to wind his arms around Ukai’s neck and pull him in for a kiss before the bitter salt has yet faded from the blond’s tongue.

Ukai would never have expected Takeda to be the risky one of them, but he has found he loves this as much as everything else about the other.


End file.
